The Wolf of Los Angeles.

In the early hours of the morning, 20th Street in Santa Monica became completely quiet, and even most of the street lights were automatically turned off.

Inside a villa, three people quietly climbed into the villa next door, cooperated with each other in the inspection, and slowly moved towards the master bedroom on the second floor.

With plenty of time, they were not in a hurry. They removed an alarm and entered the master bedroom.

There seemed to be someone sleeping soundly on the bed, but the three of them did not go over immediately. Instead, they checked the room and then opened the door of the cloakroom.

The man, who was supposed to sleep in the big bed, was lying on the mattress in the cloakroom with a pistol next to him.

There's no need to check, there must be an alarm device over there on the bed.

The rest of the work was easy. After confirming that there was no mistake, one of them took out the medicine and pressed it on the target's mouth and nose.

Before long, the man fell into a complete coma.

Afterwards, two more people came to support and directly transported the target person into the villa next door.

The three men did not leave immediately. Instead, they searched the villa carefully, removed all surveillance and alarm equipment, cleaned up all traces, and retreated back the same way they came.

When the sky was just beginning to brighten, a business car drove out and took people away from Santa Monica.

At dawn, several buckets of sea water were poured on his head. Tim slowly opened his eyes and found a familiar person standing opposite him.

One of his newest neighbors on 20th Street.

Then, I heard a familiar voice again: "Are you awake? The time is perfect."

Tim turned around and saw a very familiar face - Hawk Osment.

Next to her was a woman with golden brown hair who was dressed particularly neatly.

He had also met Erica Ferguson.

A couple of dogs and men!

Tim subconsciously closed his eyes, hoping that he was dreaming, hoping that none of this was real.

But when he opened his eyes again, the adulterous couple was still standing in front of him.

My hands and feet were tied and I couldn't move at all.

Tim lost all hope and shut his mouth tightly.

Hawke didn't say a word. He took out a large photo of Miller Collins and another unfamiliar face, put it in front of Tim, and asked, "Who is the person who contacted Miller Collins?"

Tim said nothing.

"You won't get the answer this way." Erica, who has never been a good person, said, "Just use electric shock. The FBI is very good at this."

Guti, who had long blond hair, came over and smiled at Hawke in an artistic way: "Boss, let me try?"

Hawke warned: "Don't kill anyone."

"No." Guti smiled, took out a small wallpaper knife from his pocket, walked up to Tim, and said, "Dude, you'd better keep your mouth shut and hold it longer, so it will be more interesting."

He pinched Tim's arm, grabbed it down piece by piece, grabbed his wrist, and asked Morientes to straighten the arm.

Tim is the guy who does the dirty work in BlackRock's San Francisco branch and has dealt with a lot of people.

But this is the first time I’ve waited to be fucked like this.

His wrist shook unconsciously a few times.

Guti did not act immediately. Instead, he said slowly, "Do you know what I did before? I was a surgeon, a very promising surgeon. But why did a doctor do this kind of work? Of course, there is my story. In my hometown, drug trafficking organizations are rampant. Because my fiancée publicly called for drug prohibition, those bastards shot her to death in the street. She was shot 32 times and was pregnant with my child!"

He chuckled, "From then on, I stopped saving people and started killing people. Killing scumbags is actually saving people. I found a bastard who killed my fiancée, knocked him out secretly, tied him up, and used a scalpel to cut off his gun hand!"

Having said this, Guti swung the wallpaper knife in his hand quickly.

Following Tim's scream, a piece of flesh and blood fell to the ground.

A small piece of flesh was cut off from Tim's middle finger on his right hand.

Guti didn't seem to be joking: "I cut 32 knives on each finger of the hand where he fired the gun. Each cut would remove a piece of flesh, and I made sure not to hurt his bones."

Erica couldn't help but look at Hawke, and felt that each of the bodyguards Hawke hired had a story.

Considering they are from Mexico, it makes sense.

"I guarantee that each of your fingers will be cut 32 times, and I guarantee that the bones will not be injured." Guti made the second cut.

With a swish sound, the sound of a blade cutting through bone was heard.

Another bloody mass fell to the ground.

Guti covered his face, as if he was too embarrassed to see anyone, and apologized to Tim: "Sorry, sorry, I haven't used it for a long time, my skills are rusty, please forgive me this time."

Not only he but also Hawke, Erica and others were too embarrassed to look at Tim when he said this.

The work was done too roughly!

But he had to keep going, he couldn't stop there. Tim screamed again and again, and his middle finger gradually turned into white bones with blood.

No one present showed any sympathy.

In the collision yesterday, Van Hawke was less lucky and ended up on a homemade plane.

Thiem is a tough guy. Even after Guti cut two fingers in a row, he still gritted his teeth and didn't speak.

Hawke has plenty of time, so let him catch his breath and wait a while before continuing.

Guti is not exaggerating. He used to be a doctor in Mexico. Before the next round started, he gave Tim an injection of a drug to stimulate his nerve perception.

Then he made another move, and Tim was full of energy and started roaring.

Before he had finished slicing the meat on his index finger, Tim couldn't hold it any longer and shouted, "I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything!"

Guti shook his head: "Just say it earlier, it's a waste of time."

Tim looked pale and sweaty. He glanced at his miserable right hand and said, “Bandage me first.”

Hawke gave a look, and Raul took a bandage and went over to help him stop the bleeding.

Guti observed carefully for a while, determined that the man's mental willpower had collapsed, and nodded to Hawke.

Hawke pulled out the photo again and asked, "Who's that guy with Miller Collins?"

"Courson! His name is Coulson Srna." When Tim said this name, his psychological defenses completely collapsed. He couldn't help but close his eyes, as if this would keep him away from the real world. "Courson is the founder of the Valley Detective Agency in Los Angeles. He has always been my contact in Los Angeles, specializing in helping me deal with some shady things."

Without waiting for Hawke to ask, he continued, "Coulson went to Puerto Rico through my channels!"

Hawke had everything he said written down.

This private detective named Coulson must settle the accounts that need to be settled.

Hawke struck while the iron was hot: "Who are you?" In order to prevent the other party from taking chances, he specifically asked: "What is your relationship with Douglas from Blackrock?"

When Tim heard Douglas' name, he lost all hope and still didn't dare to open his eyes: "My name is Tim Ronnick, from BlackRock San Francisco branch, I am the assistant to Douglas Coster, the president of the branch, and my main job is to do some dirty work for him."

Hawke asked, "Am I your target this time?"

"Yes, no... Blackrock forced me to do it!" Tim quickly defended himself, "If I don't do what Blackrock asks me to do, they will send me to jail and kill me!"

Hawke didn't dwell on it: "Tell me the specific plan between you, Coulson and Miller Collins."

Tim said: "When we targeted Twitter in San Francisco, we prepared two plans. One was to let Emma Bateson, the middleman, contact you through normal channels to negotiate financing. The other was to force you to accept BlackRock's investment if you were rejected. However, as Emma contacted BlackRock, it found that the conflict between the two parties on core interests was irreconcilable, so it decided to take drastic measures."

He roughly recounted how he used Miller Collins, a drug-addicted homeless man, to use his hatred of Hawke to unleash his personal destruction.

These are not much different from what Hawke guessed.

The rapid development of Twitter and the increasingly bigger pie eventually attracted the attention of hungry wolves.

When the interests are big enough, individuals are just tiny obstacles.

There was one thing Hawke didn't quite understand: "Even if you get me, my shares won't end up in BlackRock."

Tim slowly opened his eyes and said, "BlackRock has a mature plan. Douglas used to be the head of BlackRock in Wyoming. He found someone there. To be more precise, he created someone. That person will be your relative. There will be witnesses from the same hometown. He can pass the test of the testing agency and win an inheritance lawsuit under the California judicial system."

Erica whispered, "California's judicial system is more biased towards deep blue."

This political environment is also the key reason why BlackRock dares to do so.

Hawke then asked about the identity of the person who was created.

Tim is not so sure about these.

As for the team of mercenaries that died in Citrus Square, he didn't know much about them, only that they were from Colombia.

Hawke continued, "The marginalized population program promoted by BlackRock and Vanguard International is headed by Douglas in California?"

"Yes, it's him. I'm the one who does the dirty work. I don't know how the plan will be implemented." Tim has said what he wants to say at this point: "This is a long-term plan that takes time and effort. It can't be achieved in the short term."

Hawke knew very well that this plan would take at least four or five years to really bear fruit.

And it is in line with the current development trend of Western society.

In this regard, BlackRock and Vanguard International are quite powerful.

Hawke began to ask the most crucial question: "Who is involved in your attack on me, or is planning to participate?"

Tim thought for a moment and said, "The real planner is Douglas, but the plan he proposed must have been agreed upon by the senior executives at the headquarters. Without the promotion of the headquarters, it would be impossible to mobilize so many forces in California."

He thought of his last private conversation with Douglas and continued, "I know of people who might be involved. Former California Speaker Willie Brown has acquiesced to this matter. San Francisco prosecutor Hamas will be the middleman, and the contact person is Los Angeles federal prosecutor Garrison. That's all I know..."

Erica whispered to Hawke, "They are all the hardcore donkeys."

Hawke said: "It seems that I have become a thorn in the side of many people."

Erica knew the reason. The Twitter in Hawke's hands was too valuable. (End of this chapter)